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I was behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine with a sense of contentment that had become a rarity in my life, prepping for the morning rush, tuned into the fact it was seven-thirty, and Chris would be here any time. He’d left at six, going back to his own place to get ready for school, saying he was more than capable of wheeling himself to his house and daring me to argue. I expected him back again, as he had this routine of stopping by for his usual order—a strong black coffee, no sugar—before heading off to his day at school. Almost to the second, when I looked up, I saw Chris crutching in, saying hello to a few of my breakfast regulars, and making his way over to me.
As he approached the counter, there was a soft smile on his face, one that never failed to set my heart racing. He greeted me with a warmth in his eyes, and without a word, he leaned over the counter, and I met him halfway, and he kissed me. It was a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight because it was our hello, a moment stolen from the rest of the day before it began.
“You made it home, then.” I nodded at his smart schoolteacher pants and shirt with a purple tie.
“Did you doubt me?”
“Nope.” I handed him his coffee in the to-go cup, and he took a quick sip, appreciating the taste, then kissed me goodbye. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, and even though I wanted it to continue, it was going to have to be enough to set me up for the day. He kissed me in full view of anyone who was in the diner. In those moments, I wasn’t a secret to be kept; I wasn’t something to be hidden away because I didn’t fit some sports agent’s narrative. Chris made me feel I was precious, as though I was worth being seen.
As he pulled away, there was this sense of everything being right. “Love you.”
“Love you, back,” I said.
“Bye.” He exchanged fist bumps with Levi, whom I hadn’t seen in a few days and who came in with purpose. Chris gave me a last smile, and with a casual wave, he was out of the door, off to face the day, while Levi made his way over and took a stool.
“Pancakes?” I asked—going from the fact Levi hadn’t deviated from his favorite on the four or five occasions he’d been in here. “Extra-crispy bacon? Black coffee?”
“Yes, please,” he said and wriggled on the stool to get comfortable. “Quinn tried to make me eat tofu this morning. Tofu, for fuck’s sake.” He shuddered, and we exchanged smiles. “All that hippy-dippy health shit will end up killing me. Give me pancakes, bacon, and real syrup every day.”
I passed him his coffee before heading out the back. “You think Quinn might have a point?”
“It’s like you want to talk yourself out of a sale!” He was flabbergasted by my suggestion.
I smirked. “Never.”
I headed into the kitchen—the only outstanding order being his, and Merle was working the coffee machine—and I made the fluffiest of pancakes, crisped the bacon to perfection, and poured the maple syrup into a small jug.
“Here you go,” I said, and placed everything in front of Levi—if I could bottle his happy expression and sell it, I’d be a millionaire.
“I’m heading over to Abby’s with the pastries,” Merle announced, “then the wholesalers, you want to add anything to the list?"
I shook my head. “It’s all good.”
Merle headed out, but a few moments after he left, the door opened again, the bell jangling, drawing my attention, Levi’s, and that of a few regulars. I turned, expecting to see Merle heading back in with another question, or to say he’d forgotten something, but my gaze landed on a figure I thought I’d left behind.
Briggs.
My ex-husband was here, posturing just inside the doorway, tall, blond hair, and his piercing gaze that had once captivated me, was fixed right on me. Clad in figure-hugging jeans and his baseball jersey, emblazoned with his number, and no coat—despite the cold—he was impossible to miss. He’d made the grand entrance he was used to. It was obvious he was waiting for the diner to quieten as the great Briggs Lewiston arrived to grace us all with his presence.
It warmed me that not a single person was bothered or interested in his appearance, with everyone turning away.
“Hey, Cal,” he drawled, loud enough for people to hear, sauntering over to the counter with a confidence bordering on arrogance. His tone might have been casual, but I knew him well enough to see the hint of caution in his expression.
“Noah,” I said, in a careful tone.
“You’ll always be Cal to me, sweetheart.”
Don’t make a scene. Act cool. Remind him about the restraining order.
I struggled to find my voice at first, and he smirked, and any hesitation in him vanished, and his familiar confidence returned in spades as he tipped his chin and leaned on my counter.
“You can’t be here,” I said under my breath.
“But here I am,” he said, loud enough for others to hear.
Fuck this.He wants an audience, then he’ll get one.“What do you want?” I managed, my tone sharp enough to still the conversation in the diner, and for the person sitting nearest to us, Levi, to take note of what was going on.
Briggs’s gaze didn’t waver. “Thought I’d visit Fox.”
